The tale that has been told...
They continue north into the moors looking for some sign of the golden domed mounds that Mirimon had spoken of and Edrahil had dreamt. The Company sticks to the high grounds as much as possible to avoid any harm coming to their horses – the frozen bogs are full of ruts and holes.
Over and around, up and down, the Company wanders through the moors and sees nothing, nothing but brown and white frozen hills. As the sun begins to set in the western sky, they all think that their trek has been for naught. But then, the Company rounds a hill and before them they see the carnage that only could be achieved by something of great size… the hillocks show evidence of golden blooms but they have been smashed and soiled as if something had dragged its wicked and vile body across them. The golden mounds of Ephanial have been sickened and withered by the great wyrm! They have been destroyed.
As the wind blows cold into their faces and the daylight sun sets upon them, Edrahil hears a faint sound… he hears the sound of someone crying. The elf looks to the north and west and sees far off, huddled over, the limp form of a blonde haired elf. The sound of Edrahil sucking in air causes all to look at him and then to the direction that he stares – each can see the person atop the soiled mound. The Company, all spent and now feeling most defeated, spur their horses towards the elf. The sound of their approach causes him to look up and the Company can see the tortured and bloodied face of their comrade Mirimon. The elf has tears streaming down his face and he shakes his head no as they approach…
Jumping from his horse as he rides up, Angbor reaches into his saddle bags and draws forth all of his healing herbs and remedies. He grabs a long swatch of clean linen to both wipe and wrap Mirimon's wounds. The Dúnadan falls to his knees beside his friend to help, speaking a short call upon Estë to guide his hands and to help him help his comrade –
Vala Virtue +2 to healing tests
Healing Hands +5 to healing tests; must make a Stamina test. Depending on Mirimon's wound level; I have a TN 10, 15, 20, 25, and 30
Roll (2d6)+14: 4,6, +14 Total: 24 (Spends 2 Courage to attain a score of 30) SUCCESS no matter what the level of wound!
Stamina Test TN 8 +2 for each wound level
Roll (2d6)+7: 3,3, +7 Total: 13 FAIL (I lose 1 weariness level for each wound level if failed)
The wounded elf continues to shake his head as Angbor administers aid. The Company can now see his hands are bound behind his back as he sits hunched over on his knees.
"I failed you!" he cries, "I failed us all!"
Angbor cuts his binds and begins to apply the clean linen to his wounded face and beaten back but the elf pushes his hands away. He reaches out to grab Edrahil's hand and looks into his face - the tears he has cried has washed away some of the blood.
"You must go! They know you are coming... they know you will come to me! The Dragon... he has left me as bait in a trap!" he stutters. Then Mirimon looks up at Angbor and says, "Thank you for your efforts kind Man of the West - I have failed in all that I set out to aid you with, except for this..." and Mirimon pulls himself up on his haunches and behold, under his bent over form he had protected a patch of the golden bloom. Mirimon rolls onto his back and stares at the sky and then speaks his last, "Go now... they come..."
Like the sun, the small patch of Ephanial shines in the dead landscape and it seems that Mirimon's face glows with a light that is not of Middle-earth but yet springs from the patch of flowers before them. Edrahil looks to the sullen face of Angbor and says, "It matters not what you could have done for him, his heart has died in Middle-earth and now he has returned unto Valinor."
Angbor, not understanding all that Edrahil has said, slowly stands and puts his things back into his saddlebags. While he does this, Edrahil scoops into the ground and brings forth an Ephanial plant - roots and all. "Let us collect it while there is time," he says. Each of the Company falls to their knees and follows the same procedure that Edrahil had used to draw forth the first plant.
All marvel, as it seems that the very light of the sun shines within their hands.
OOC: Angbor, I am not going to cast you the 2 Courage - it wouldn't have mattered although it was a great attempt. Also, everyone needs to give me an Observe (Listen) and (Spot) roll TN 10 –
As each of the party grabs up the flowers, Angbor gingerly wraps them within the clean linens that he had in his hands. He then placed them within the saddlebag. Elrond had told him that they need to be dried and then brewed, but this will have to wait until they are in a safe area.
As he tends to the plants, the Company suddenly hears the sound of hooves and the clink of metal. They all turn to look northeast and there rising over the mounds is a large number of men on horses. The banner that they fly is that of Angmar and their number is easily 100 or more. When they see the Company standing where they are, horns begin to blat and the men stir. On either side of the mound, the Company can now see the loping form of wolves and the larger wargs. It seems the Witch-king has sprung his trap!
The Company hastily finishes their collecting of the flowers and mount up…
While gathering up the Ephanial, Edrahil happens to glance up and see the army cresting the hill towards them. His friends and he quickly finish gathering the herbs, and then mount their horses, pulling Lûnduf up with him. He looks around quickly at the army, and then his friends.
"We cannot possibly fight them and hope to survive. Our only hope is to flee, and hope to escape them for the time being. Ride, my friends. Ride, as if the very end of the world were on your heels. For that might very well be the case..."
And with that, Edrahil kicks his horse into a gallop, in the opposite direction from the army, back towards the path they came on. He expertly guides and handles it at high speeds, even with the extra passenger, drawing his sword out in case he needs to fend off any of the wolves that might catch up.
Fengel wheels his mount to face the onrushing hoard. A stern determination, like sunlight off flint gleams in his eyes. His hand tightens around his spear. He draws up next to Dirnhael, and though no word passes his lips it is clear that he is ready to make an end if the Dúnadan gives the command.
At Edrahil's cry, the middle-man turns to see the Elf and Dwarf making best speed back the way they had come. In a calm voice that belies the gravity of their situation, Fengel says to the two Dúnadan, "Ride quickly. We have paid too dearly to end only as fodder for Angmar's angry mob. I shall be at your heels."
Upon hearing Edrahil's words, Dirnhael unsheathes Andúring and peers into the distance -and what he sees chills his very blood. It has come to this then; a ride for their lives, and the very lives of thousands more. So be it.
He turns to Fengel and puts his arm around the man's shoulder in a warrior's embrace. Dirnhael knows that no man in this Company can ride like Fengel, and the Elf does not possess the stalwart Éothraim’s strength. "Not this time, my noble horseman. This doom is upon the Dúnedain. Your spear and your steed must protect Angbor and Edrahil - only they have the ability to save my people. Please, pay me this honor. I will follow behind as best I can."
His ancient blade at the ready, Dirnhael waits until the rest of the Company is astride their mounts and away. Nodding his head deferently towards Mirimon's body, Dirnhael whispers, "Thank you, my friend. Your praises will be sung at fair Imladris before the end of these days. Quel esta, Mirimon."
Dirnhael positions his shield at his back, and leaps astride his steed. The wind roars in his ears as he thunders off to join his companions - the din of Man's destruction at his heels...
Just thought I would give a quick snip of the exciting story my players are creating with the "Triumph of the Witch-king" chronicle! We are coming to the climactic close of Chapter 3 in our 9 chapter story and will be taking a short break before the story picks up again. (Narrator's gotta re-fill his brain :D )
If you're interested in reading the whole tale, visit the Triumph website at http://www.geocities.com/lotr_roleplay
